Return
by Tim Hickey
Summary: Buffy comes back (wait wait, don't run yet) with a twist
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story except for James Morningstar. Unfortunately, otherwise I would be a creative genius and a very rich man and my name would be Joss. 

  
  


Feedback: Please, whether it be bad, good or both, I want to hear it.

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She staggered through the cemetery, her blond hair streaked with brown, her plain white dress she wore was cover in dirt. She fell, her hands landing in the cool damp grass. The urge to just lay there, listening to the crickets and soak up the coolness, to lay here and try to grasp what was going on.

Fear welled up in her. This close to the ground, made her think of the coffin.

She yelped, a dry croak that barely escaped her throat. Slowly she got up, a look of udder terror spread across her beautiful, dirt smeared face.

She stood there for a moment, the light breeze blowing her dress and hair behind her, making her appear to be some fallen angel, here watching over the dead.

'In some ways I am," she thought absently.

It was all a blur now. The last thing she remembered clearly was leaping from the top of the tower, hurdling towards the portal of energy that threatened to destroy the world. As she fell toward what she had assumed would be her end, she was for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, at peace with herself. She would die saving the world, what better way to go out than on top?

She remembered the pain, the tearing sensation that ran through her whole body, tearing at her brain, wracking her body in an intense pain unlike that she had ever felt before.

Then the coming of the cool calm darkness, the one that promised no more pain, no more heartbreak, no more loss. She embraced it, completely with her all.

Then, a light, cutting through the darkness like a blade, blinding her. There was something behind that light, something she could not understand or recapture in her minds eye, but she remembers vaguely her thinking how she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

The figure behind the light had spoke to her, but the words were all lost to her. She had a strange feeling she had cried while it spoke, whether it have been tears of joy or misery, she could not recall. Only two words of the whole conversation stuck out in her mind.

Warrior reborn.

Then a feeling of being thrown at a tremendous speed backwards, away from the light and the dark.

Buffy Summers had awoken with a start, her eyes had flown open and she had begun to take big gulps of air. A think layer of sweat covered her body and her head felt fuzzy, as if she had just slept for a long time.

She attempted to sit up, but her head hit something soft and plush in the dark. Confusion set in, as she tried to figure out where she was. She ran her hands to her sides, which were covered with the same material. She was trapped.

The frighting truth hit her like a hard slap to the face.

She was buried alive.

The confusion and fear had mixed into one and Buffy lost control. She punched and kicked and screamed at the top half of the coffin, and it eventual collapsed under the assault. The dirt fell, like a waiting predator, piling on top of her and filling the coffin. Blindly she dug, as if possessed, using everything she had. She dug and dug, attempted what seemed like in vain to get out of the ground, to get to some air.

Finally, after what seemed like a life time of being surrounded by dirt, her right hand broke ground. Pushing and pulling she finally managed to bet her head above ground, where she gasped like a swimmer coming up for water. Pulling herself completely from the dirt, she lay panting on the grass, spitting dirt out of her mouth. After a few moments of her laying there, the only sounds in the graveyard being her heavy panting and the crickets, she lifted her head to examine her surroundings.

Staring her right in the face was a tombstone. She read the name and her jaw dropped.

  
  


**_Buffy Anne Summers_**

**_ 1981-2001_**

**_ Beloved Friend_**

**_ Devoted Sister_**

**_ She Saved The World_**

**_ A Lot_**

  
  


She moaned and leaned to her left, gagging. If there had been any food in her stomach, she would have gotten sick. She dry heaved there for a few minutes, crying silently, her tears cutting tracks down her dirty face.

'What's happening to me,' she thought.

  * ************

Buffy had only taken a few more uneasy steps, her balance was shot, her legs felt like rubber. All her strength was gone, she was just trying to get to a phone, or to the Magic Shop.

'Anything but this damn graveyard,' she thought.

She felt her legs let go again, and she was back on the ground. This was frustrating to her. The last things she remembered, she had beaten Glory, a god, with her own two hands and a huge hammer. Now, she couldn't even walk 10 paces without collapsing in exhaustion.

'Just lie here' a part of her begged, 'get your strength back.'

Her mouth still had that awful taste of dirt in it. Every time she closed her mouth, she could feel the grit grinding between her teeth. The urge to start heaving again rose, but she suppressed it. Buffy lay there for what seemed like a lifetime, attempting to get enough strength to continue on.

A sicken thought hit her, it spread across her weary mind like a fire through dry forest.

'What if I'm not in Sunnydale at all' her head screamed 'What if they took your body away to some sort of Slayer graveyard in England, or how about this, how long have you been dead. A week, a month, a year, ten years. What if all your friends are gone, left Sunnydale in their dust or Sunnydale had finally caught up to then like it did to you. What then.'

"Shut up," she croaked to no one.

She was breathing in quick, sharp breaths. Her body shook. Fear was threating to run rampant all over her. She tried to calm her self down, using some meditation tricks that Giles had taught her. Finally she could feel the fear subsiding, and she was in control again. She took a deep breath and forced herself to her hands and knees. She looked up strait ahead of her to see a man, five feet in front of her. He was dressed in a black suit, his long shock white hair pulled back in a pony tail, a ferocious scar ran down his right cheek.

Buffy's internal vamp alarm that she had come to depend on her whole slaying career was screaming. She groaned loudly and stood shakily.

"What do we have here?" the vamp growled.

The vamp looked behind Buffy to the hole in the ground in front of the tombstone. He looked back at Buffy and smiled. Under other circumstances, it probably would have been considered charming, but right now it was all menace.

"This is an unexpected treat," he said, " I come to visit the grave of a fallen Slayer to find her risen."

He walked over to Buffy. He moved with the grace of a dancer, his strides powerful and confident. Buffy stood her ground staring down the vamp.

"Let me introduce myself," the vamp said. "My name is Morningstar, James Morningstar."

He extended his hand to her and looked her right in the eye. She glanced down at the hand and glared back up at him in contempt.

"Yes, well the," Morningstar said, smiling. "Suppose you have been through a lot my dear, being reborn and all."

He looked at he with an amused puzzlement.

"That is what puzzles me. You are alive, not undead. I can hear you heart beating from here, I can smell your blood. You have been brought back to this miserable world by some higher power for what reason, a job unfinished?" Morningstar asked.

"Go away," Buffy whispered, "before you end up another dust bunny in this cemetery."

Morningstar started to laugh, a dark chuckle that echoed through the cemetery.

"Child, you can hardly stand strait," he laughed. "Yet your still full of confidence. You Slayers are all the same."

His right hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. She gasped for air as he lifted her off of the ground.

"You could not hurt a thing in the state your in," he stated, looking her over.

Buffy struggled meekly in his powerful grasp. She threw a punch that had no power behind it. It connected with Morningstar's right eye. He smiled again and threw he off to his right, where she bounced off of a tombstone and hit the ground with a thud.

"Now I have reached a crossroads," Morningstar said, walking over to where she landed. " I could tear your guts out and leave your body strung up to the gates by your own intestines , or I could snap you spine and but you back in the ground."

He pulled her up by the back of her dress to meet him eye to eye.

"I could add you to the list of Slayer's I've slain in my time, with little to no effort at all."

His face morphed into the demon side. Buffy tried to punch him again, but he grabbed her fist in his hand.

"Or I could make you my childe. Give you immortal life. Put the power of a Slayer with the power of the undead. Make you an unstoppable force of evil."

He licked his lips hungrily and leaned over to her left ear.

"What fun we could have," he whispered into her ear. "We could cut a bloody path across t globe, we could reform the army of darkness, do what not even the Master himself could do." 

He pulled back from her ear and they locked gazes. Morningstar looked at her with smug satisfaction. Buffy's lip curled into a sneer and she spat what little saliva that was in her mouth into his face.

His smile faltered slightly and anger filled his green piercing eyes.

"You will be mine." he whispered.

His left hand grabbed her hair roughly and turned it to the side, exposing the scar on her neck from the previous bites received by Angel and Dracula. His head shot forward and he bit her. She gasped in pain, but the pain was only momentary, she knew this, following it was pure ecstasy. She could feel the life being drained from her, that cool familiar darkness setting in. She struggled weakly in his grasp, but to no avail. She could hear Morningstar sucking on her neck, but it seemed so distant, it felt as if it weren't happening to her, that she was watching a movie with Willow, safely at her house, eating popcorn. 

Morningstar pulled back and lowered her limp body to the ground. Her eyes fluttered open and close as she rested between life and death. He removed a small knife from his suit jacket and cut the palm of his right hand, drawing blood. He placed it down by her mouth.

"Now drink my childe," he whispered softly.

His hand hovered by her mouth, waiting spilling a thin stream for blood. He watched her bottom lip quiver and her mouth open slightly. She put her mouth over his cut and began to drink, smearing blood on her lips, her teeth her tongue.

Morningstar tossed his head back as if in orgasm. He began to laugh softly.

This was the beginning of something phenomenal, he knew, nothing like this had ever happened.

He had plans now, big plans.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Risen

Disclaimer: As we all know, Buffy belongs to the manacle Joss Whedon, who without his creative genius, what else would I watch. The only character I own is Morningstar, and if anyone wants to use him, please, feel free.

  
  


Feedback: As always, please do so. I'd like to thank all of you that did give me some feedback on chapter 1.

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**DAYTIME**

  
  


Willow Rossenberg tried to keep her head down as she walked through the cemetery, trying not to look up at the picture perfect morning that surrounded her. Mornings like this, when she would awake and slip out of bed, carefully as to not wake Tara, she would feel terrible as she looked out the window. It was another beautiful sunrise that Buffy would never see, just another morning that would go on without her. Buffy had lived for sunrises, it had meant the end of another usually long night of battling the undead.

To Willow's left walked Xander Harris. The two of them had been the closest to Buffy during the five years that Buffy had spent in Sunnydale. The three of them had always been there for each other if they could, and Willow knew that Xander felt the same as she did. If she could give her life up to bring Buffy back, she would in an instance, no second thoughts, no regrets.

It had been over a month since Buffy had sacrificed herself to save the world. So many tears had been shed in the first few weeks, Willow didn't think she'd ever stop. But the past couple of weeks, the hurt wasn't as strong. It was still present, but it was not as burning, not as raging as it had been. This made Willow feel guilty, she thought that it should hurt forever. She would never tell Dawn that, she gave her the same song and dance. 'It'll get better, Buffy's always with you etc etc.' but in herself she wasn't so sure. The rational part of her understood, that the pain of Buffy's death would subside, and her memory would live on. But none the less, guily had built up inside of her.

Willow looked out of the corner of her eye, her head still down, to glance at Xander, who stared strait ahead as he walked. When the two of them would come up here to visit Buffy's grave, this being the fifth time since the funeral, Xander rarely spoke, which was a feat in itself. He usually had something to say about everything, ever since he and Willow had met at Sunnydale Elementary. It had gotten him beat up a lot in school, he would sometimes say that it was like a separate entity living inside of him, words just came out of his mouth before he realized they did.

But this was a different side of him, a sullen, very tight lipped Xander. The only time he'd ever be anything close to this is when he would sneak out to come to Willow's on the nights his father had been drinking heavily. This was his tradition that he had when they came up here, just as Willow always had her head bowed.

They rounded the long bend that led up the small hill, the trees on each side of the path drooping low in eternal sadness for the dead that rested here. Willow thought about how Buffy had spent so much of her young life in this place, just to spend the rest of eternity here.

'Some sort of twisted poetic justice' Willow thought

They approached the top of the hill and turned to the right, walking between the graves to the small clearing where Buffy's final resting place lay.

Giles had paid for all the funeral expenses, and had found this little clearing, which was a miracle. They're was quite the population in the Sunnydale cemetery, due to the large number of deaths that occurred in Sunnydale a year. Willow had once looked into the death rate of Sunnydale in comparison with other cities and was not real shocked to find that Sunnydale had the highest death rate in the country, and no one seemed to notice. She looked back to every year starting with 1960. They always maintain the same level, up until 1996, when it dropped suddenly, not by much, but compared to other years it made Willow smile. The rate had decreased ever since '96 and it had made her feel good, that Buffy, herself, Xander and Giles had made a difference in helping the innocent people that just happened to live in a Hellmouth. The same people who had no idea about the creatures that go bump in the night, or the girl who had put herself between the lines.

"Oh my God," 

Xander's voice broke through Willow's thoughts, and she blinked twice to clear her head. There was something in Xander's voice, a mixture of awe and fear. Willow looked up.

The ground in front of Buffy's tombstone had been turned up. Dirt and grass was everywhere. Willow felt her heart rise up into her throat.

"What...how.." Xander stammered.

Willow knelt down and looked at the small hole. One larger enough that someone could crawl out of. She put her hand down near the hole and closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears.

"What does this mean?" Xander asked, standing next to Willow, his eyes never leaving the hole.

"I...I don't," Willow whispered.

"Let's get Giles," Xander suggested.

  * ************
  
  


Rupert Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His head was pounding, a direct aftereffect of the pervious night of drinking to much Scotch, it felt as if someone had set a bomb off behind his eyes. Willow, Xander and himself stood around the grave. The two young people were staring at him, he could feel their eyes on him, waiting for to come up with an answer for this question.

"Any ideas Giles?" Willow asked.

"I'm...I'm not sure," Giles said, putting his glasses back on, snapping everything into clarity.

"What about magic," Xander asked, "Will, you yourself said that it is possible to bring someone back using magic." 

"That is a possibility," Giles said "But that bring forth the question of why."

"It would have had to have been someone of incredible power," Willow said "and even then, it might not have worked. Bringing the dead back to life isn't an easy task."

Giles was staring at the hole. It was evident that it had not been dug down to get the body, but rather had been dug out of. The thought chilled him even more.

"Where is Dawn?" Giles asked.

"She's at my apartment with Anya," Xander said, "She didn't feel well this morning, so I let her sleep." 

"I think that it is essential that we keep an eye on her," Giles commented, "at ;east until we figure out what's going on."

"Let's not tell her about this," Willow said. "No need to get her hopes up."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Xander mumbled.

Giles and Willow both looked at him with questioning expressions.

"I mean, if Buffy did come back to life, you'd think that she'd come to see Willow, or you Giles, or me, and if not any of us, then at least Dawn."

Giles rubbed his forehead. The constant drinking since Buffy's death was starting to dull his wits. He sighed heavily.

"Okay, Xander, go back to your apartment and check on Dawn and Anya. Willow, you and i should go by the Summers house to see if she'd gone back there." Giles said.

The two of them nodded and not for the first time, Giles wondered if they'd follow him into the depths of Hell.

'They almost have' he thought.

'Not you old man' another part of him growled, the same part that told him one more drink would be fine, your only a little drunk, 'They'd follow the Slayer, not you.'

Giles looked down at the hole, the hole with scratch marks in it.

'What happened here Buffy,' he thought.

  * ************

**LOS ANGELES **

  
  


Angel walked through the empty halls of the Hyperion hotel. He wore nothing but a pair of black pants, his bare feet slapping against the mahogany floor. He approached the marble stairs and made his way down to the expansive main lobby. He walked with a slight limp, the battle wounds of the previous night still fresh on his body. He reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way across the lobby to where a beautiful brunette and a wiry black haired man sat, drinking out of styrofoam cups and eating pastries.

The brunette looked up at Angel approaching.

"Angel," she exclaimed, "what are you doing up, it's like 9:30."

She looked him up and down.

"You look like hell," she commented.

"Thanks Cordellia," Angel scoffed, going to the fridge.

He opened the door and pulled out a small bag of blood. Opening it, he poured the thick liquid into a mug. Tossing the bag in the garbage, he opened the microwave door and placed the mug in. He closed the door and punched a few buttons.

"Angel," the wiry man spoke up, "are you alright."

The truth was, he wasn't. He couldn't sleep, he wasn't eating very much, he couldn't get her out of his head.

"I'm fine Wesley," Angel lied.

The microwave beeped and Angel popped the door open, and grabbed his lukewarm mug of pig blood.

Cordellia and Wesley exchanged a look, one that had been passed between them a lot lately. It was always a look of mixed concern and exhaustion.

"I was watching you fight last night,' Wesley said very low.

"So you followed me," Angel said, back still turned to them.

"Yes," Wesley replied, adjusting his wire rim glasses.

Angel turned towards them. He leaned back on the counter and ran a hand through his jet balck hair.

"And?" he asked.

"You were sloppy," Wesley said. "You were fighting like you had a death wish. I watched you take risks in a fight that you would never have done two months ago."

Angel laughed and looked away from Wesley.

"That's funny," he laughed, turning his head back to lock gazes with the young Brit. "You giving me fighting tios."

Wesley bit his bottom lip to contain what he wanted to say.

Cordellia said it for him.

"You are so full of it," she sighed. "Ever since...since Buffy died, you've been working non stop. Your wearing yourself thin Angel."

Angel took a drink of his blood and looked at them both.

"Angel, we all know how much you miss.." Wesley began.

"No you don't," Angel whispered. "She's everywhere I turn. When I try to sleep, she's haunting my dreams. When I'm training, she's in my head, it's like I'm fighting her. But when I'm working, my head is in the work, or the fight, that's it. It's the only place I can escape to."

"You can't keep this up, you'll die out there," Wesley said.

"Don't you think I know that," Angel snapped. "My reflexes are sluggish, so are my instincts. But I can't stop these thoughts. I've tried...I've."

Cordellia got up and wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders in an embrace.

"We all miss Buffy," she said, "But you getting killed won't change what happened. We have to move on."

Angel wanted to drop his head to her shoulder and cry, let everything in him let go, but he shoved the urge deep inside of him, to toil with the rest of emotions he'd been pushing down there for the past month.

"Thanks Cordy," he whispered.

She pulled away and smiled at him, that sweet smile that would melt the hearts of men.

Angel drained the rest of his blood and set the cup down.

"Maybe I'll try to get some sleep," he said.

That was another lie. He knew, he'd get up to his darkened room and lay there, thinking about Buffy and his inability to save her.

He began to head back to the stairs, when the huge front doors opened. All heads turned to the visitor. Angel growled. This was the last person he wanted to see.

"Hello warrior," one of the Oracle said.

"What are you doing here?" Angel demanded.

"We have a situation,' the Oracle responded.

"Sorry, can't seem to care right now. You people are not on my to see list for awhile," Angel snarled.

"I think you have a ......personal liking to this one."

  * ************

Dawn Summers sat alone on a small cot in the guest room in Xander's apartment. She sat there, holding her knees to her chest, his chin resting on her knees.

She was still in her pyjamas, and it was almost eleven o'clock. Xander had come in earlier this morning to see if she wanted to go with him and Willow to visit Buffy's grave. She had lied and said she wasn't feeling well.

It wasn't really a lie though. She felt terrible, but not the feeling of an oncoming flu, but the feeling of something being wrong. She had woken up with this feeling around 3:00 in the morning and had layed awake all night.

Something had happened to Buffy, she was back. Dawn was sure of it. As sure of it as she was about anything else she had ever been sure of before. She should have been overjoyed, she had dreamed of this since her death over a month ago, to be able to hug Buffy, to feel her close to her, to ease the pain that Dawn lived through everyday.

But for some reason, she was scared, so very scared.

  * ************

** DUSK**

  
  


Morningstar sat in an overstuffed chair, his hands folded in front of him, his index fingers pressed together.

_Here's the church_

_ Here's the steeple_

The expensive suit hung off of him like a proper suit should. His long white hair hung around his shoulders. His intense eyes were locked on the body of the Slayer, who was layed out in front of him. He had taken the liberty of cleaning her up and changing her clothes. She now wore a jet black dress, with red splattered on the breasts.

There he had sat, sat in this very chair and waited. Six hours without moving a single muscle. Just sitting and watching and waiting. Imagining how his life was about to change, now that he had the power of a Slayer on his side.

He had seen the effectiveness of a Slayer in action before. Hell, he had the blood of three of them on his hands. One in the woods of Russia in 1864, another in 1908 in Rome and one in East Germany in 1947.

He had this fascination with the Slayer. He had spent a fair amount of his vast fortune on research about the Slayer and where they derive their powers from. A slayer and a vampire were so closely linked it fascinated him. The animal like instincts and agility, the phenomenal strength that increased with age, the speedy healing factor.

Slayers were an interesting species. One chosen woman to fight an army. The forces of Good were so damn stupid, how many young women had been killed in the line of duty trying to contain the forces of darkness was ridiculous. Morningstar had traced their existence of at least 2000 slayers, dating back as far as 98 BC. There were more than that, he knew, but there were no know traces of them.

Morningstar had first heard of Buffy Summers a few years ago. The Slayer who had taken down the Master. He had taken a special liking to this one, any Slayer who was cunning enough to kill the Master was special indeed.

He had sent one of his employees to keep an eye on her, to let him know of her exploits. He had heard of her slaying of Angelus, which pleased him very much. He severely disliked the vampire with a soul, ever since they fought in New Orleans in the 1930's during his brief visit to America.

He heard about her battles, how she stopped the Ascension, her killing the monster named Adam and all the battle in between.

Then two weeks ago, his employee had come to him with distressing news.

Buffy Summers was dead.

This came as a shock to him. He felt as if he had known her deeply. Somewhere inside him he felt loss and sadness.

He had booked a flight for a few weeks later to come to the Hellmouth. He was not sure why he waited a few weeks, usually he wanted to have his business dealt with quickly and efficiently. But a feeling in him said to wait.

Now, he realized that it was more than a gut feeling. He had been chosen to lead the army of the night into glory. Finally after almost 200 years of service, he had been rewarded by the Dark Powers.

Layed out in front of him was his queen. Together they would rule this misserable planet. He looked at his watch. The sun was due to set at 7:32. It was now 7:30.

Two more minutes, two more minutes before his dark bride would rise and the carnage would begin.

7:31

They would go and feed, turn this small town on it's side. Tear through this lown and leave it painted red. Spread the blood of the innocent, so much so that it would run freely through the streets.

His watch moved to 7:32.

Morningstar watched as the body began to twitch slightly.

"Yes," he whispered darkly.

Buffy Summers eyes fluttered open slowly. She blinked twice and shot up like a shot, her game face on.

She roared, a dark animalistic sound that echoed through Angel's old mansion.

"Good evening my darling," Morningstar spoke, standing to his full height of nearly six and a half feet. "I trust you slept well."

"Hungry," she growled, "I'm so hungry."

"Of course you are," Morningstar smiled. "Then let us go, let's you and I have our first night on the town together shall we?"

He extended his long hand to her. She looked at it and back up at Morningstar.

She placed her small hand in his. 


	3. It Begins

Disclaimer: The majority of these characters are owned by the creative monster that is Joss Whedon and not by me, otherwise I would be a shut in my million dollar mansion and would have servants at my beck and call, which I don't.

  
  


Feedback: As always, your damn skippy I want feedback, good, bad, whatever.

  
  


Distribution: Hey, if anyone wants this fic, please just e-mail me, I'll probably be more than glad to let you use it.

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Randy Jacobson made his way down the street, enjoying the clear night. He was returning from the ball field after a particularly long afternoon ball game with his friends. This was the summer between his junior and senior year in high school and he was attempting to make the most of it. He walked along, enjoying the warm summer evening, not a cloud in the sky, just stars, sparkling like finely polished jewels in the night sky. Randy hung a right and walked towards the woods, intending to take a path that led essentially right into his backyard. His parents disliked their sixteen year old son walking through the wooded path alone, they had told him this a number of times.

"Some weird shit happens around here after nightfall boy," Randy muttered, mocking his father's voice.

Frankly Randy didn't care what his parents thought, cutting through this path shaved 15 minutes off of his walk home. Granted, some weird things happened here in Sunnydale, like people disappearing without a trace, weird cult stuff, nothing really major though. 

'All the same stuff that's happening all over this messed up planet,' Randy thought to himself.

None of this scared Randy though, when he looked into the mirror he saw a 6'3 200 lbs wrecking machine that no one in their right mind would want to mess with. He had been in his fair share of scraps in his young life, all of which the other guy had come out on the worst side of it, so to him, whomever was stupid enough to try and mess with him was more than welcome.

He made his way into the woods, tossing a baseball into his glove, the sound of the ball hitting leather was the only sound save for his feet stepping on dry braches and twigs. 

Randy turned the bend, the same one that after so many walks through here he had come to know as the halfway point, and stopped. Ahead of him stood a petite blond, dressed in black and red. She tilted her head and looked at him and he was captivated. She was absolutely gorgeous, she was unlike any other woman he had ever encountered.

"Hi," she said, smiling a brilliant smile, even in the darkness it was apparent. "What's a handsome young man like you doing out alone, shouldn't you be with your favourite girl?"

"I..I..I'm just going home," he stammered, his legs felt weak for a second, his stomach turned over like a dog doing tricks, his heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

The blond's smile seemed to widen some more, as if she could feel what he was feeling.

"Going home," the blond said "On a spectacular night like tonight, no one should be at home. How about you stay out with me and we'll, oh I don't know, make out on the path?"

Randy could feel his dick getting hard, he could almost cut the sexual tension with a knife. The blond approached him, her movements were elegant and fluid, almost like running water. She reached him and put her arms around his neck and locked her blue eyes on him.

"Wanna make out?" she asked, flashing that smile again.

"Do I!!!" Randy breathed excitedly, his penis answering before his brain had time to register what had been said. His body was alive with energy, he could feel the blood rushing though him, his head pounded with it.

The blond leaned up and kissed him, full on the mouth. Randy though he was going to explode right there, his body instinctively pulled in closer to hers, driving his hard-on into her lower stomach.

She giggled slightly and pulled away from him, locking her eyes onto his face. She licked her lips seductively and began kissing his cheeks, then down to his neck. Randy smiled slightly, the guys would not believe him when he told them this story, but at that point he didn't care, this was getting good.

Randy moaned and open his eyes, wanting to see her lithe body move against his. When his eyes opened, he saw the white haired man leaning against the tree, not more than five feet ahead of them.

"What the.." Randy said.

He wrapped an arm around the blond and pulled her back from him.

"What are you some sort of sick shit," he asked the white haired man.

"Just enjoying the show," the man said, not moving from where he leaned.

"Yeah, well, shows over freak," Randy said, "I suggest you get moving before you start bleeding."

The man smiled, an arrogant smile that made Randy's blood boil. The white haired man just remained perfectly still, looking at Randy like a cat would look at a mouse.

"Maybe your fucking deaf," Randy said, the anger in his voice barely under control "I said get the hell out of here."

"I don't think so," Morningstar replied.

Suddenly Randy was grabbed roughly from behind by the blond. He yelped and tried to break free, but he was held firm. He struggled again, but the blond held fast, not letting him move. She had a grip like steel.

"What the hell is going.." Randy began.

He felt two sharp objects dig into his throat. He tried to scream, but he was hit with a sudden intense orgasm that rocked his body. He moaned and twitched in her grasp, the though that she was biting him didn't seem to matter, it wasn't happening to him, at least he didn't think it was.

Everything began to go blurry, he looked up to see Morningstar approach him, that arrogant smile still spread on his face. The sides of his vision was going dark, everything looked like he was looking through a glass bottle.

"What's happ.." he gurgled, blood running freely down his neck.

He slipped to unconsciousness and Buffy held him for another minute, drinking deeply. Finally she let his limp body drop to the ground. She was panting, her eyes wide, her game face was on.

"Oh...wow.." she breathed. "Did I ever not know what I was missing!"

She licked the blood from her teeth and her face switched from demon to human. She turned and looked at Morningstar. He loved the way she looked right now, her face flush, blood running from the left corner of her mouth, he breasts heaving.

"Come on lover," she said, smiling. "I have some business to take care of now that we've had lunch."

"And what would that be?' Morningstar asked, approaching Buffy and laying a slender hand onto her face.

"We're going to get my sister," Buffy exclaimed cheerfully. "Big sis is back and looking to bring Dawnie back into the family."

  * ************

Silence

Not a word had been spoken since they had left LA a few hours previous. Wesley sat at the wheel, his eyes fixated on the road ahead. Angel sat in shotgun, looking out the window, staring into nothingness, his eyes tired, his posture slouched. Cordellia and Gunn where in the back, the brunette sleeping while the young black man listen to his discman.

Angel sat there, the scenery whipping by him, with him not even noticing. His mind was running the conversation that had been had many hours previous between himself and the Oracle.

**BEFORE**

  
  


"We had decided that the one known as Buffy Summers was to be given another chance at life," the Oracle said.

They all sat in the chair in the main lobby, Angel in an armchair, Cordellia and Wesley on one couch, the Oracle on the other. Angel had put one of his silk shirts on, leaving it unbuttoned.

"She was one of the greatest Slayers in history," the Oracle continued "and losing her was unexpected."

"Unexpected," Cordellia said, "aren't you people the all know, the all pwerful, so very god like, responsible for my continuing brain trauma?"

"You'll do well to mind your self receiver," the Oracle responded.

"Receiver!!" Cordellia shouted, "Do I look like a Direct TV dish, I don't get five hundred channels you ignorant son of a.."

"Cordy please," Wesley snapped.

Cordellia snorted and sat back on the couch, pouting.

"The one known as Dawn Summers was prophesied to die, not the Slayer. But for one reason or another, something went awry."

"Buffy wasn't much for following prophecies," Angel said.

"It was decided that Buffy Summers would be brought back to fight the good fight. Life was breathed back into her body." the Oracle said.

"She rose, as planned. What was not seen was the presence of the vampire known as James Morningstar."

Angel sat up much more strait in his chair and looked at the Oracle in disbelief.

"Morningstar," he breathed. "You pulled her out of death and out of the grave to battle Morningstar. Jesus she was probably to weak and confuse to stake a newly turned vamp, much less that blood thirsty bastard."

The Oracle shook it's head.

"No warrior, he was an unexpected factor. Regardless, the vampire killed Buffy Summers and he brought her to the side of the dark."

Angel's eyes grew wide.

"Oh God ....no" he whispered.

"He turned her?" Wesley asked.

"Yes," the Oracle responded. "She will rise tonight. No one is sure what to expect."

The Oracle looked at Angel.

"She must be destroyed," it said. "No one could think of a warrior more qualified than you."

Angel shook his head.

" I can't kill her, I love her," he said, just above a whisper.

"She's no longer the Buffy we all knew," Wesley said. "You know that Angel."

Angel rubbed his hands over his face and sat back in the chair.

"This can't be happening," he mumbled.

"But it is," the Oracle said "and you must help stop it. Her friends will try, and they will fail without your help. We are dealing with a Slayer that is now also a vampire. She will be extremely powerful and dangerous."

"Especially adding Morningstar into the equation," Angel said.

The souled vampire rubbed his forehead. He went from feeling utterly exhausted to near dead. This had to be some sort of nightmare, just another in the long line that had haunted him for the pass six weeks. Soon he would awake to find that only 15 minutes had passed since he last looked at the clock.

"What are we going to do?" Cordellia asked.

Angel sat there, trying to get his head clear. This couldn't be a nightmare, even he couldn't have dreamed up anything like this.

"We leave at dusk," Angel said, "We can get to Sunnydale in a few hours. We spend the day gathering up weapons and attempting to get ahold of Giles, warn them of what's coming. We gotta find Gunn to, we're gonna need all the help we can get on this one."

The Oracle stood up.

"Good luck to you warrior," it said.

Angel looked up at the Oracle with bloodshot eyes.

"Gonna need more than luck on this one."

  
  


** NOW**

  
  


Angel rubbed his face, feeling the growth beginning there. Cordellia had been right, he looked like hell. The lack of sleep and constant fighting had taken it's toll, and it worried him. He knew if it was going to come down to a battle, and with Morningstar being involved in this there was no doubt in Angel's mind that there would be, that he would not be at his best.

He looked at the huge sign as they approached, the same one he had seen in the rearview mirror when he had left the Hellmouth 2 years ago. The huge rising sun, tossing off golden rays in every direction, over a small community. The huge words pained in blue underneath.

"WELCOME TO SUNNYDALE. A GREAT PLACE TO LIVE!"

Angel looked out at the town below.

He just hoped they weren't to late.

  * ************

Xander Harris blew one of his long locks out of his face and sighed. This was shaping up to be a weird day even by Sunnydale standards. He sat at the table in the middle of the Magic Box, surrounded by the tools and books of the occult, not a place he had imagined for himself a few years back, before Buffy Summers had changed his life.

He had been in love with her once, not the same love he had for her just before her death. Back in high school, he had been painfully in love with her. He loved just sitting back and watching her, whether she was interacting with someone, or just walking by, he loved making a mental note of every move she made. But, he had found out the hard way that she didn't love him back. Sorry, she did love him, just not in the same way that he had loved her. She was so hung up over Angel and it killed him, every time he would see them together, it felt as if someone had turned a knife in his guts. So when Angel had turned and killed Jenny Calendar, a part of him had been rejoicing, because now Buffy had no other choice but to stop loving Angel and kill him and he, Alexander Harris would be there to comfort her.

But it didn't happen that way. She had slayed Angel, but rather than turn to Xander for comfort, she had ran. Xander never forgot that day, how he had felt, how if it had not been for his selfishness, Buffy would never have killed Angel, and he wouldn't have lost one of his closest friends. From that day on, he promised himself that he would be a friend to Buffy, rather than a jealous jaded wannabe lover.

But now she was gone, or so he had thought. The weirdness factor had hit an all time high this morning when he and Willow had discovered Buffy's empty grave. Giles, Willow and himself had gone their separate ways on a Slayer hunt, hoping that she would turn up, alive and well.

But that was what had given Xander an uneasy feeling. Even in the Hellmouth, people aren't suppose to come back from the grave alive and well. Usually if they came back, it was undead and thirsty.

He had gone back to his apartment, as agreed upon, thinking about the hole in the ground that led to his friend's so called final resting place, trying to make sense of it all.

**THEN**

  
  


Xander slid the key into the door lock and opened it with a click. He turned the door handle and opened the door. He enter the small hall that was the entrance way and he removed the light jacket he had been wearing and hung it up in the closet. He set the hanger back on the rack and headed towards the living room.

The apartment was modestly furnished, Xander had spent all the money he could afford to get this place and had moved a bunch of his furniture from his room into the apartment. Anya had bugged him for weeks to let her go shop for furniture, until he had said yes. She had been like a kid in the toy store, hoping up and down on couches and trying to convince the salesman to let her and Xander knock boots on one of the beds to test it. Xander had spent all the money he could to get the stuff for Anya, around the time he realize how madly he was in love with her.

"Hello?" he called out "Dawn?"

He looked around the quiet apartment and listened carefully. He could hear the sounds of kids playing two apartments over from him, and somebody pounding an Eminem CD above him, but his apartment was quiet.

Deathly quiet.

He walked over to the guest room door, which was still closed, despite the fact that it was getting late in the morning.

'Maybe Dawn still feels sick,' he thought to himself.

He knocked on the door lightly.

"Dawnster, you in there?" he asked through the door.

He could hear bare feet against the hardwood floor and the sound grew louder as they approached the other side of the door. The door knob turned and the door opened. Dawn stood there, dark circles under her eyes, she was still in her PJ's.

"Hey Dawn," Xander said. "How ya feeling?"

"She's gone isn't she?" Dawn asked, her voice flat and tired.

"Uh..yeah, Anya left for work around the same time I left," Xander replied.

"Buffy," Dawn said. "She's not there is she?"

Xander looked at the young girl with a look of shock.

"Was she here?" Xander exclaimed. "Is she..."

Dawn shook her head.

"I just.....I knew she wouldn't be there," she whispered.

She told him about her awaking at 3 in the morning with the feeling that Buffy was back, she was alive, she had come back from the dead.

"Whoa," Xander said. "But how could you have know that she'd.."

"When I first awoke, I was excited, my body was shaking with this..this energy. Then suddenly, after a few minutes, it was gone and replaced with..with this fear." Dawn explained.

She looked up at Xander, so much hurt and emptiness in her eyes.

"Something is wrong," she said, beginning to cry. "I want to be so happy right now, but I'm so scared Xander and I don't know why."

Xander swallowed what felt like a huge lump in his throat. Dawn was scaring the hell out of him, she seemed so sure that the hair on his neck was standing up on it's ends.

  
  


**NOW**

  
  


Xander shook his head.

"Yup, one weird ass day," he muttered.

It was nightfall now and the Scooby Gang were gathered around the table. Willow and Tara sat next to each other, Dawn in one of the plush chairs, Anya and himself next to each other and Spike sitting on the stairs that led up to the top level of the shop. Xander looked at the blond hair vampire, smoking his cigarette. He still didn't like Spike, even though he was the only thing really keeping the demon population in check since Buffy had died. Even still, Xander didn't think he'd be to shaken up if one of the vamps Spike ran into on patrol got the best of him.

Giles stood up in the middle of the floor. His hair was a mess, his clothes wrinkled, basically the same way he looked every day since Buffy's funeral. Xander had suspected that he'd been drinking, he had seen his old man enough times to know what a bout with the bottle the night before looked like.

Giles had called Xander an hour before and told him that he should get to the Magic Box as quickly as possible. When he had asked why, the former Watcher had said that he would explain it all when they got there. He also said to bring Dawn and Anya. Xander informed him about his conversation with Dawn earlier and this seemed to distress the Brit even more.

"Just come Xander, I'll explain it all," he had said.

Now, six of them sat in the shop, eyes focussed on Giles, waiting to see what was the emergency.

"So Rup?" Spike asked, "What's so bloody important that you came banging on my crypt door like a madman. Apocalypse, demons run amok, vampire legion? Come on now, get to talking, that is what you do best is it not?"

"We...we..well yes," the former Watcher began.

"Earlier today, Willow, Xander and I discovered that Buffy's grave was ...ah empty."

Spike leaned forward.

"Did you say empty mate?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, empty. We split up and went to search for clues, to see if Buffy had come back to us for one reason or another. After a futile search on my part, I returned to my apartment to find this message," Giles said.

He carried the shop's answering machine over and place a tape in it, then pushed play.

"Giles, it's Angel," the voice on the tape said. "I have some really bad news for you."

"What does the poof have to do with this?" Spike asked

Giles held a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion to Spike.

"I had a visit from an Oracle today, sent on behave of the Powers. I was informed that they brought Buffy back from the dead, given her a second chance at life." the message continued.

Everyone in the room save Giles, and Dawn exchanged hopeful looks of joy.

"But unseen to them was the presence of a dangerous vampire known as Morningstar. When Buffy rose, he was there and he...he ...he turned her Giles. I'm on my way down, along with Wesley, Cordy and Gunn. Please, call me as soon as you get this message, my number is..."

Giles hit stop on the machine and looked at everyone in the room.

"She's been vamped," Spike whispered, reaching into his duster and removing his golden cigarette case out and pulling one out, placing it between his lips.

"I telephone Angel back as soon as I heard this. He is on his way down as of dusk, he should be hear within the hour. Until then we wait, we stay here and..."

The door of the shop opened and all eyes turned to see Buffy standing there, wearing the black and red dress, her blond hair huge around her shoulders. Behind her was a tall slender man, his hair shock white. The first thing Giles noticed though were his eyes.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Buffy asked pleasantly.

Everyone stood up slowly, not taking their eyes from the two vampires the whole time.

"Come on guys, where's my hugs, my '_Welcome back from the dead Buffy_' celebration. Figure you don't come back from the dead to often," she said.

"Don't come any closer," Giles said, trying to not let the emotion show in his voice.

Buffy pouted out her bottom lip.

"What, don't you guys love me anymore?" she asked.

She stepped down the two small stairs to be on the main level. She looked from person to person until her eyes fell on Dawn.

"Hey Dawnie," she said. "I missed you so much. Come here baby, I just want to hold you."

Dawn kept a level gaze with Buffy, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Buffy," she whispered.

Buffy smiled and extended her arms out. Dawn started to go towards her, but Giles put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"We know what you are Buffy," he said to her.

Buffy's look went from joy to hate as she shifted her gaze from her sister to her former Watcher.

"Oh," she said, menace hanging from that single word. "Than that changes things around a bit."

Buffy looked back at Morningstar, who stepped down and put an arm around her shoulders.

"This is my new friend.."

"Morningstar," Giles said evenly.

"Don't interrupt," Buffy snapped.

Xander looked over to his left and saw the wooden cross there. He moved over quickly and grabbed it and stepped in front of his friends, holding it at eye level as he approached the two vamps. Both the vampires back up a step and growled, sounding like two large dogs that were cornered.

"Buffy," Xander said, his voice cracking halfway between the syllables.

"I've come for Dawn," Buffy spoke, "that's all. We're giving you the chance to walk away from this. You were my friends, you deserve the option to get out of this. I just want my sister with me and for you all to leave town, and you will be unhurt."

"You know we can't let you do that," Giles said.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders.

"Then you die, plain and simple. If I have to tear through you all to get to my sister back, I will," she said.

"Buffy, please, what are you doing?" Willow asked, near tears.

Buffy glanced at the redhead then back at Giles.

"Your call Giles, do you want the blood of these people on your hands? I'll make you watch each of them die before I kill you," Buffy snarled. "So just give me back my sister and we don't have to do this."

Xander stepped closer with the cross, he didn't know where he got the strength to move, he felt week and sick all at the same time listing to this. Morningstar put on his game face and roared at Xander. He could smell the stench of rotting flesh coming out of his mouth, it made him want to get sick even more.

"Get out," he whispered.

Morningstar started to laugh, which pissed Xander off. The rage burned through everything else. He pushed the cross, closer to the tall vampire, who's laugh turned into a hiss in the space of a second.

"Come James," Buffy said, wrapping her arm around the vampire's waist, "let them play hero for tonight. You all know that this isn't over. Without me, you're a rag tag group of book readers and low level witches."

"I didn't want it to come to this," she said, a trace of sadness in her voice. "You people were everything to me at one time."

She turned and opened the door.

"I'll be seeing you all," she called back over her shoulder.

The door closed and the room seemed to sigh. Willow was crying, Tara holding her. Xander still stood in the middle of the room , holding the cross in his hands, his knuckles white and his hands shaking. Dawn stood there, staring at the door, tears running down her face. Giles pulled up a seat and flopped down, and he fought the urge for a Scotch on the rocks. He suppressed the urge to do so, he refused to do his drinking in front of the kids.

Spike meanwhile, hadn't taken his eyes from the door. As soon as Buffy had stepped through the door, his acute senses could almost see the power that radiated off of her and he was captivated by it.

He had been excited the whole time she had been here, by her darkness, a direct contrast to what she once was. A vampire Buffy could work in his benefit, Christ, with the exceptions of Dawn and Red, he could care less what happened to the rest of these wankers. He wanted her even more than before, something he didn't think possible.

He smiled that half smile that he had perfected over the past century. This had the potential to be very good.

  
  


_ I just want to scream hello_

_ My God, it's been so long_

_ Never dreamed you'd return_

_ Now here you are_

_ And here I am_

- Pearl Jam "Elderly Woman"****

  
  



End file.
